


An Injury to All

by radicalhufflepuff



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, make-it-worse, suicide (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radicalhufflepuff/pseuds/radicalhufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A make-it-worse fic for Children of Earth. Jack bargained with the 456 for Ianto's life, but can Ianto live with that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Injury to All

_“There’s a saying here on Earth, a very old, very wise friend of mine taught me it: an injury to one is an injury to all. And when people act according to that philosophy, the human race is the finest species in the Universe.”_

In Thames House, Jack and Ianto stood side-by-side, facing the 456. Implaccable, it reminded them, “You yielded in the past. You will do so again.”  
The virus was released, and Jack broke. “Then I take it back, alright? I take it all back—but not him!”

The 456 considered. Whatever else it might be, it was not a risktaker. Harkness, it knew, would not die. An ally would, well, an ally would be useful. The humans running this planet were weak, they might easily be tempted to fight back, they might be willing to follow the Doctor's philosophy. Already some, it knew, were wavering. Some would follow Harkness' example. The risk was unacceptable. “There is an antidote,” said that strange, cold voice.

“What is it? Give it to me!”

“There is also a price. You must help us. Convince the humans to surrender their children.”

“And if I do?”

“Then we will give you the antidote.”

“What? Jack, no! You can't!”

Jack didn't answer, he just shook his head, thinking of everyone else he had seen die, of everyone else he _would_ see die. Just once, just _once_ , couldn't someone live?

He punched Ianto. Already weakened from the virus, Ianto fell to the ground, out cold. “Give me the antidote.".

***********

The next day, as the governments in 10 Downing Street deliberated how best to make the offering, Jack was there to advise them. There were ways to make it easy, ways to ensure that the process went smoothly, people to be jailed to prevent any unpleasantness. As Jack sat in that cheerfully-lit room, Gwen and Rhys sat in three isolated cells, too far from each other to be heard. One by one, thirty-five million children were taken up by the 456

Ianto was alive. Not cured, no, the 456 were not that foolish, but alive. His chest went slowly up and down, up and down in Thames House, watched over by the 456, by a perverse guardian angel that wished him neither well nor ill. He was not even a pawn, just a reward for keeping faith. And humans were weak, Harkness included. Their sentimental attachment to one human over another, to those close to them over those far from them, would ensure Harkness obeyed.

***********

And so it was that three days after the 456 arrived, one day after thirty-five million children were taken up into the heavens, Captain Jack Harkness stood again in Thames House, facing the 456, Ianto lying on the floor beneath him.

“I did what you wanted, damn you!” he said. “Give him back!”

Ianto's eyelids twitched, then opened. He looked up, first at the tank containing the 456, then at Jack. “You did it, didn't you?” he said, his voice cracking.

Jack didn't answer.

Ianto carefully stood up, then spat at Jack's feet. “How many, Jack?”

“Does it matter?”

“ _How many?_ ”

***********

Every day was a struggle for Ianto. Torchwood was gone, of course, no question. Even if it had, somehow, survived the rapture of the children, he wouldn't have been able to go back. Even thinking of being in the same room as Jack made his skin crawl. And no matter where he went, he was reminded that it was his fault. His first night back he'd spent with his sister, listening to her sob in the other room, not able to keep quiet, not caring that she couldn't.

His second night he spent with Gwen and Rhys. Sitting in silence, they ate dinner together. Gwen would look up at him from time to time, attempt a smile, then look back down at her plate. Rhys ate and drank like there was no tomorrow. Gwen drank too, so much that Ianto was fairly sure she didn't intend to remain pregnant.  
After dinner, Ianto felt brave, or drunk, enough to ask the question again.

“How many?”

“Thirty-five million.”

“Why didn't you stop him?”

“I would have, but I couldn't, by the time we knew he had, he had.... By the time we knew he'd had us locked away. His grandson was taken, you know.”

“What?”

“Jack's grandson. He was deemed, oh, whatever term it is they used. Taken up with the others.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Gwen shook her head. “No? Yes?”

“Well it doesn't. But it doesn't make me sorry for Jack, either.”

Gwen opened another bottle of wine.

***********

Ianto's third night was spent so drunk he didn't know where he was. He'd bought several bottles of the strongest vodka he could find and chugged them, one after another. It didn't help. It didn't dull the pain until he passed out, and his dreams were no relief from the pain. Jack found him, insensible, curled on a parkbench in the morning. He wrapped the unconscious man in his coat and carried him to the room he'd rented for the night.

Ianto woke up in Jack's coat, wrapped in Jack's smell and the memory of Jack's arms. But those were no longer comforters. It might have just been the alcohol, but he didn't think so as he vomited up what little he'd eaten the previous night. He didn't bother to clean it up.

The walk Ianto took to clear his head did him little good. Children are so common that one doesn't really realize it until they aren't there anymore. It wasn't just that a tenth of them were gone; parents weren't willing to let their remaining children out of their sight, out of their homes. No children walking to or from school, no giggles as they ran around the city, no screams or cries from their inevitable falls.

The adults were silent too. Every one either had had a child taken up, or knew someone who had had one. The pain was too great for anyone to talk about it, too raw for there to be anything else to talk about. The only mercy was that no one knew it was his fault. No accusing stares like he'd had from his sister, no attempts at comfort like he'd had from Gwen.

***********

Ianto spent the fourth night alone. He couldn't sleep and didn't even try to. He just sat in his apartment, staring at the wall. He didn't even want to drink now. Once impeccable, he now hadn't showered in days. Stubble grew on his face and he didn't care. His hair was matted, his clothes stained with vomit and stinking of vodka. From time-to-time he would get up and turn on the TV, or stare out the window, or glance through a book. But he couldn't focus on what he read, couldn't see anything of interest out his window, couldn't bear the constant talk of the raptured children on the TV.

Rhiannon and Gwen both came to his door, uninvited, the next day. Ianto pretended he wasn't there.

The fifth night Ianto spent walking.

***********

Jack woke to find a sealed envelope with his name on it in blocky, careless letters slipped under his door. He opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

“Jack,” it read. “Tell my sister I love her.”


End file.
